Fear the Holidays
by raikouplush
Summary: It has been a rough year for everyone. Mary died, Mycroft became an even more protective older brother and Sherlock began to pull away from everyone. With Christmas here, John is at a loss of what to expect, and confused on what to do next. Sequel may be worked on. All depends on health.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1: John Watson

Looking outside of his living room window, John could see the snow as it began to fall on London. It was a peaceful night, no new cases to solve and no new suprises. It had been calm the last week, almost eerily so. Lestrade had not shown up with the new case, and Mycroft had not made an appearance as well. That was unusual these days especially with Sherlock's condition. He had been having such a rough go of it ever since the last case. He had become more distant, never talking or playing his violin. He had not talked about how bored he was nor insisted on performing any random science experiments. If that in itself was not a warning sign John didn't know what was.

Letting his eyes wander over towards the clock, he was surprised to see that it was already 9 p.m. on Christmas Eve. He had not seen Sherlock leave nor had anyone entered so he knew that his roommate was still in the flat. Looking into the kitchen he could see that the breakfast lunch and dinner that he had left out were not touched. Knowing that the food would be cold by now and that the breakfast and lunch would have probably gone bad, John sighed to himself as he walked to the fridge and grabbed some vegetable rice left over from last nights take out. It was by no means a large Christmas dinner but it was better than nothing for the two men. Putting it in the microwave he quickly set the timer and began to make tea.

" Sherlock," John called. "Sherlock you need to eat something. Now you can either eat what I'm going to bring you or I can call your brother and insist that he assist me with this!"

It was an idle threat and both men knew it. But it was the only thing John could think to say to convince his roommate to eat something. By his reckoning it had been a good 52 hours since his roommate had left the room or eaten anything. That was not good, not good at all. A loud ding interrupted John's thoughts on the matter as the microwave to signaled that it cycle was finished. Grabbing the warm bowl from the microwave, John stirred up the rice and walked over to his roommates door.

"Sherlock, I am coming in," John said as he twisted the knob.

And going in he was, or so he thought until he realized that the door was in fact locked. That irritated the old army veteran. Putting down the bowl of rice, John stared at the door for a moment and decided what he was going to do. He needed entry, if not to feed his roommate at this point then at least check on him and make sure that he was okay. But he did not have a key to the room and the only set of lock picks in the apartment were locked inside with the detective.

"Sherlock you have three seconds to open the store before I break it down," John yelled. "And do not think that I won't do it!"

Unsurprisingly the door did not open. That left John only one option. With the bowl of rice lying forgotten by the doorway, John took 3 steps back and charged forward slamming his shoulder into the door frame above the lock. The wood stood sturdily for a moment before giving way with a loud crash and a cloud of splinters. Regaining his balance, John reached for the light switch and flicked it on. However what he saw was not what he expected to find. He had expected to find his best friend and flatmate upset in the corner of the room working on some project that he had smuggled in. Instead he saw no one. Sherlock was gone, and John had no idea how long he had been missing.

Stepping out of the room, John quickly grabbed his cell phone from the living room table and called a number that he did not wish to. It only took three rings before a familiar voice answered the phone.

"And how is my little brother this evening," Mycroft asked calmly. "I can deduce, by the fact you are calling me, that something has gone awry. Now do you wish to tell me over the phone or speak to me when I arrive in about 2 minutes?"

"Sherlock is gone," John said, his voice not betraying the sea of emotions he was feeling. "Mycroft, find him."

ooooooooooo

 _AN: it's been quite a while since I have done any fanfiction writing and I am very glad to be writing once more. be aware that all my stories are done by voice to text so if there are errors please let me know so that I may go back and correct them. Thank you._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Sherlock

It was a surprisingly busy evening at the local diner for it being Christmas Eve. Then again, by the looks of the people that were in here, they either had no choice or no families to go to. Just like Sherlock himself. The waitress had been nice enough, mid forties slightly unkept blonde hair and chipped nails showing that she did in fact work for a living and most likely had no one at home to impress. She was attentive to all the patrons equally, refilling coffee or tea and making sure the more lonely sprt had someone to talk to.

Normally Sherlock would not be caught dead in an establishment such as this. That was the exact reason he chose here. He knew that John would not want him around, not after he had been responsible for the man losing his wife. Mycroft was off on some super-secret business again. Mummy and daddy had decided to take a trip figuring the boys would be fine this holiday without them. And yet here was the great detective, dressed as an aging construction worker as he attempted to hide from his flatmate.

 _He knows I am responsible_ , Sherlock thought quietly as the healed bullet wound gave a twinge of pain. _When I stepped into the room and she shot me, it left him only one option and that was to shoot her. How could he not hate me for forcing him to make that choice._

With his gaze focused outside of the window, Sherlock was ripped from his thoughts when he saw a familiar black car drive slowly by. It was his brothers driver, or better said his brothers agent. That meant Mycroft knew about his escape and that his current position was compromised. Pulling a few pounds from his wallet, Sherlock placed the money next to the uneaten food and quickly left via the back patio door.

 _Mycroft I have no time for your games_ Sherlock thought angrily. _It's Christmas Eve, I would like to be alone and I will make sure that I am alone_.

The detective knew that his brother had access to any kind of video and surveillance footage, including but not limited to traffic cameras and drones. His brother had sent a drone out once before but he had enjoyed that game. This time he was done playing games. Keeping up with the aged construction worker persona, Sherlock limped along the roadside halfheartedly trying to hail a cab. Not surprisingly, no cab stopped for him. And that was the goal. A man such as the personna he was attempting would not want company on a holiday like this. He would want to be alone but he would attempt to observe the social niceties.

Watching from the corner of his eye as the black car drove on Sherlock smiled slightly. He was pretty sure that he had evaded them but it was always better to be safe. Darting into a dark alleyway, Sherlock quickly climbed the fire escape of the nearest building and looked for an unlocked door. The third floor was not locked and without bothering to think of where he was, he darted in. At least here he would be safe from aerial surveillance.

What he did not count on was the fact that the building he entered had a silent alarm. Had Sherlock paid more attention, had his mind not been distracted, the detective would have noticed that he was entering a computer store loft that was in fact currently inhabited. It was a rookie mistake, and one that he was about to pay for dearly.

Sherlock noticed quickly where he was, but not quickly enough to prevent the occupant from noticing as well. As the man reached for the alarm button and a cricket bat, Sherlock quickly attempted to deescalate the situation in a rapid manner. He noted that the man was slightly overweight, was working on Christmas Eve, and had an ashtray full of cigarette butts.

"Ey mate," Sherlock said with a horribly slurred accent. "You got any smokes? My buddies down the way told me to come up here and ask ya for some."

"I do not know who you are but you need to leave," the computer technician said as his hand wrapped around the bat. "This is a secure facility and the cops are already on their way. Now, you can either be arrested on Christmas Eve and spend your holiday in jail or you can go back down that firescape that you climbed up. It's your decision to make."

While Sherlock himself would easily be able to overpower and handle the man in front of him, his persona would not. This was a critical moment. If he slipped even in the slightest the man would notice that he was no aged construction worker and Mycroft would quickly know where he was. The descision was an easy one.

"Aye mate ill leave," Shlerock said as he laid the accent on heavier. "Im sorry for botherin ya. The boys said here was a good place to get smokes is all."

Stumbling slightly to keep up the act, Sherlock quickly exited the door and climbed back down the fire escape. In the distance he could hear sirens and knew that the police were in fact already on their way. That means he needed to move quick.

Starting further into the alleyway and into the slums of London, Sherlock once again attempted to make his escape from his flatmate, his brother, and his memoroes

AN: well here's another chapter. After this one the chapters should be getting longer. I just needed to set into place the basic part of the story before I went to much further and went off what was in my head instead of explaining to readers what is going on in the story.

I would like to thank my first reviewer Mayla! It is wonderful to know that somebody is enjoying reading the story and if you have any suggestions feel free to post them. Same with all you other readers out there. I do accept Anonymous reviews so if you want to leave an idea without leaving your username feel free to go right ahead and do so.

I hope to update once a week and occasionally more than that until this story is done. Once a week will be on either Saturdays or Sundays


	3. Chapter 3 - Parts 1 and 2

Chapter 3-1: John

"Why couldn't he bloody well tell me that he was going out," John grumbled himself as he wrapped the coat tighter around himself. " it's very close to freezing outside, it's 11:30 in the evening on Christmas Eve and I am searching for my idiot of a flatmate who can't be bothered to tell anyone where he's going or why!"

There were no taxis to be found, most had gone home to be with their families while others were still working but packed with passengers. John knew that Mycroft was doing his best to find his little brother and considering the fact that he had not found him yet, John was starting to question if Sherlock wanted to be found at all.

"Sherlock where are you" John whispered as he looked into the alleyway he was passing. "Please, stop with the dramatics. It's time to go home."

Shivering as the wind began to blow, John was not surprised to see snowflakes start to fall. It looked as if it would be a white Christmas after all. Now normally John would not mind that however with a currently missing Consulting Detective, the quickly dropping temperatures posed a greater problem. Knowing that his time was running short to find his friend, John hurried his pace.

There were very few places left he knew to check. Sherlock's homeless network did not even know where the man was though one or two of them had an idea where he might be going.

"Check the park," the lady had said as she counted the money John had reluctantly handed her. "You know the one. The one where he had met that lady of his with the pretty bridge."

It would cost John an extra 20 pounds to be given directions, but it seemed to be well worth it. London was very easy to get lost in and night did not make it much better. Up ahead he could see the lone park bench next to the tree, the nearby bridge icy with frost. To John's disappointment, there seem to be no one there.

A small bell like chime breaking the silence of the night alerted John to the fact that somebody was attempting to reach him on his cellular phone. Fumbling with the devices unlock patterns due to numb fingers, John was able to miraculously open the call as the final ring begin to drift out.

"Doctor Watson speaking," John stated authoritatively. "May I ask who this is?"

"Go home Watson," a familiar voice spoke. "I want to be alone this evening and your presence is not requested."

"Sherlock where the hell are you," John snapped as he began to look around. "You have caused a lot of problems. I don't care your reasoning but you need to go back to the flat before you freeze out here!"

"I have no intentions of going back," Sherlock replied, his voice emotionless. "John, I killed her. I am responsible for the death of your wife and I am going to make things right. So please, go home. You don't need to see this."

With a final click, the call disconnected. John felt his body spring into action as he began to run over everything Sherlock said. The Consulting Detective had let on more than he knew. From what John could tell, Sherlock was somewhere near by. Somewhere that he could see him. Somewhere that he could get the job done in peace.

Spinning around John quickly glanced over the most ideal spots. Sherlock was not in the tree, nor was he sitting on the bench staring out over the water in a final moment of contemplation. That left only one location left. Not bothering to second guess himself or his deductions, John sprinted for the bridge.

 _You do not get to do this to me_ John thought harshly. _Mary made her own choice, not you. You do not get to make this descision._

Chapter 3-2: Sherlock

Clicking the phone shut, Sherlock's smiled slightly as he watched the coated figure at the park spin around looking for something. He knew exactly what the figure was looking for, but Sherlock had this planned. After he had been chased out of the computer shop he had wandered London for a bit contemplating all the choices and actions that have been made to this point. Every single one of those bits of information led to the same conclusion. John did not want him around anymore, he blamed him and rightfully so.

Taking a few extra minutes to make sure that his tracks were covered, Sherlock had reached the bridge well before anybody else. Unfortunately the bridge had cameras and upon stepping foot on to the beautiful traveled area, Sherlock knew that his brother had eyes on him. That was why he had made the call. To explain to both John and Mycroft why he made the decision he did. This was not going to be another hospital roof scenario. There was not going to be a miraculous recovery from what should be another death-defying stunt.

With the snow falling and the temperatures dropping, Sherlock knew that the human body would only survive long submerged in water. That was why he had called the tugboat captain as well. The man was beneath the bridge, his boat idling quietly waiting for Sherlock to make the jump. Upon doing so, the member of the boat would quickly fish him out of the water and provide him dry clothes as they spirited him away to somewhere new.

For John and Mycrofts sake, this had to look like something completely different. If either man had an inkling that Sherlock had plans to survive they would spend every resource they had hunting him down and dragging him back to London. Sherlock did not want that. He wanted to be a normal person, live somewhere alone maybe with a dog. Somewhere that he could solve cases for a quiet little town. Somewhere that he would not get his friends and family hurt.

It was all planned out, everything was in place with every little variable accounted for. Every variable, except a robbery and high-speed chase.

As Sherlock prepared himself to climb up to the edge of the bridge and leap off, his plans were cruelly interrupted. Seemingly out of nowhere the night silence was filled with sound. The sirens of multiple cop cars were heard as well as the quick revving of engines. Turning his head away from the river upon which he had been contemplating the final pieces of the plan, Sherlock was utterly surprised to see three black cars speeding across the bridge and sidewalk. The bridge was in fact still populated this late on Christmas Eve with people either walking home or trying to enjoy the weather and holiday season. Tonight though was definitely the wrong night to be there.

As the world seem to slow, Sherlock begin to analyze the situation. The old man and woman closest to the cars had no chance to dodge or move out of the way. He had no ability to help them either. The runner on the opposite side would do fine. She was already moving towards the edge ready to jump towards relative safety. So were most other people it seemed.

But then he saw it. The single mother with three iids right behind him who was already starting to cross the road when the cars began to drive up. The baby he could do nothing about. As sad as it was he had to make a priority choice. The two young boys were roughhousing near the edge of the bridge and would easily get out of the way. The mother on the other hand, there is only one option for her. Sherlock would have to jump in the way the vehicles and shove her and the baby carriage towards the edge hoping that the cars missed them.

The downside to this was that doing so would put Sherlock in a position that he would not be able to get out of in time. The cars were moving far too fast.

 _Then again_ , Sherlock thought to himself as he began to move and time snapped back. _Is this any different than the plans I had in the first place?_

 _Oooooooo_

AN: This defenitley needed to be written in two parts. To show both sides of what was going on. Mycroft will have his own section next week. To be honest, I was only planning on writing 3 chapters. But, the story took on a life of its own. I think it may have 1 or 2 left, not sure.

A big thanks to my reviewers, Malya and Synoel. I appreciate the support and constructive advice. Like I said, chapters will be longer from here on out.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Mycroft

Looking at the file that had been placed on his desk, Mycroft Holmes smiled slightly. Sherlock had made an error. It was rare that he did so, but now that it had happened Mycroft could use that to his advantage. The photo on his desk was a little blurry, most likely from the snow. But it very clearly showed his brother dressed as a construction worker. While most would be fooled by the disguise he was not.

Summoning one of his assistants via phone, Mycroft slid the picture into his desk. It did not take long at all for the assistant to arrive, if Minecraft had not known better he would have sworn that the man had simply been waiting outside the door.

"Pick him up and drive him here," Mycroft ordered. "However you deem nessecary."

With a nod, the agent silently departed. Mycroft have been very careful to keep any emotion out of his voice. And his line of work, emotion could spell the end of the line for any involved. Brotherly feelings, family ties and even friendship had no place here. As for his foolish little brother, Mycroft had something planned.

He had seen through his brothers ruse, it was quite clear actually. Unfortunately for John it would not be so. It seemed that Sherlock occasionally forgot that his sidekick was not nearly as intelligent as he was. And in this case, it could prove quite dangerous. Dr. Watson would undoubtably see it as an attempt by Sherlock to end his life. Due to his training in the Army and medical fields, it was highly doubtful that the flatmate would see through the ruse and into the plan.

Then again, Mycroft thought. That might be what he is attempting to do. His little brother had always loved the dramatic flare and if he had told Dr. Watson that he was simply leaving the country in order to gain some time alone, the man would have insisted to go with him. Sometimes Mycroft wondered if the two were not closer than friends. But that was just a flight of fancy. Dr. Watson was obviously interested in women, shown by his foolhardy attempts to flirt with Mycrofts assistant some time ago.

"Anthea, pull my car around," Mycroft said after he hit the proper button on his desk phone. "The plans have changed. I will go collect Dr. Watson myself."

Chapter 4 - 2: John

 _Sherlock, don't do it_ John pleaded in his mind as his feet slid on the slick ground. _You've done this to me once already don't do it again. Don't you dare do it again._

As John sprinted towards the bridge, he could make out a black coated figure standing on the pedestrian walk amongst other people. Well that man did not look to be leaning over the side or preparing for a jump, John was not fooled. Only Sherlock would go outside with his hair that messed and that particular coat. He knew that he had only moments to get there and though the distance was not great it was still significant.

The cold air burned John's lungs as he continued in his desperate sprint. He was getting closer, ever closer. And fact he could see the entrance to the footbridge barely 10 feet away. It was currently blocked by 3 concrete pillars on the walkway but open to cars. Sherlock was at the middle portion of the bridge and he was moving.

"Sherlock," John yelled as he saw the speeding cars approach. "Sherlock, move!"

His friend seemed not to hear him as he moved towards the woman who was crossing the street. Everything slowed down to John. He could see Sherlock stop his momentum as he pushed the woman out of the way of the speeding cars. He could tell that Sherlock was not going to be able to dodge in time. If he had ignored the woman and baby's plight, maybe he would have been able to. But, for some reason, his friend had to be heroic. John also knew that darting into the roadway was a mistake but he was determined to try to protect his friend.

I can get there in time John thought to himself. I can get there in time to push Sherlock out of the way. Then, maybe I can dodge as well. Most likely not but does it matter?

Swiftly, a sleek black car slid into John's view. It blocked his view of Sherlock, of the impending crash. It blocked everything as John, in full sprint, was unable to stop in time. With a heavy heavy thump John slammed into the side of the car, putting an end to his rescue plans. As his head connected to the solid metal John felt his grip on conciousness slip. Falling to the stone path of the bridge, he was unaware of anything going on around him. He did not see or feel the assistant who got out of the car pick him up. His vision was too blurry to make out anything, including who was in the car as he was ungraciously dumped into the backseat. The only thing John was aware of was a pounding headache, and then nothing.

Chapter 4-3: Sherlock

"We have him," a voice said sharply. " it was not a clean capture. Please have medical on standby."

Sitting at the back of one of the cars, hands and feet cuffed, Sherlock glared at the person sitting across from him. He had not been able to save the woman. She looked to have died on impact. Him on the other hand, he was definitely sore and from the feel of things he was not going anywhere. Sherlock felt unsafe, unsure. This was the first time he had ever been kidnapped in this sort of manner and it was not comfortable at all. Of course that could have been from being door checked as well but that was definitely a different pain.

"You were right pain in the ass to find Mr Holmes," the voice said calmly. "I apologize for the way we apprehended you but our employer doubted that you would have come with us willingly. You really should be thanking us though, we did save you."

"Save me," Sherlock questioned. "How did you save me?! You hit that woman pushing a child carriage. You then decided to hit me rather firmly with the door of a moving car!"

"Now now Mr Holmes," the man replied calmly. "That woman, she was not who you think she was. Neither was the carriage. What you just witnessed was a bomber who was willing to sacrifice the lives of everyone on that bridge to send a message of terror."

 _No she was not a terrorist_ Sherlock thought to himself. I _f she was a terrorist I would have noticed it. She was a secretary for a bank simply out for an evening stroll. Her shoes had shown that she had walked quite a distance and the tiredness was most likely due to having to constantly watch 3 kids. Nothing about her yelled be careful or terrorist. These people were wrong._

"Now Sherlock" the unknown man said as he pulled out a pistol. "We are going to go for a ride and you are going to make a phone call once we get to our destination. Until then enjoy the trip."

Tied up as he was, Sherlock was unable to avoid the boot flying at his face. It hit hard and Sherlock felt something crack. The pain of that blow combined with his other injuries knocked him into an unconscious state where he would feel no pain. And Sherlock had no complaints about that.

Ooooooooo

AN: hey guys sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I ended up getting really sick the past few weeks and while it is slightly better it's not completely cured. I'm going to try to post regular updates but I did want to sincerely apologize to my dedicated to readers for not having this out in time. As you can see the story is starting to take a different turn and due to this I will start doing one perspective chapters so that you guys can understand the thought processes and details behind each character.


	5. Chapter 5: The Final Chapter

Chapter 5: The final chapter

Awakening was a slow process for Sherlock. The first attempt was met with blurred vision and distant voices. The second attempt was much the same, save the picture was a bit clearer this time. However, it was the third time when Sherlock woke up that he finally understood what had occurred.

He was lying in a comfortable bed, the sheets white and clean in a room with an antiseptic smell. Sitting to the side of them and hard plastic chairs were his brother and his flatmate. John looked to be tired, his hair out of sorts as he gently snored from his leaned back position. Mycroft was as imaculate as ever, nothing on him out of place as he wrote in a small black notebook he always carried with him. However, to Sherlock, the signs of exhaustion were clearly visible. The slight darkening under the eyes, the light creases that hadn't been ironed out yet on the jacket and the missing umbrella were all clear indicators that his brother was not nearly as calm as he portrayed.

"What are you doing here Mycroft," Sherlock stated in a gravelly voice.

"Waiting in you to awaken of course," Mycroft replied with no hesitation in his notes or voice. "It has been a few days and you have missed much little brother."

The little brother comment was a dead giveaway that something was amiss. Mycroft very rarely called him that, as family affections were seen as inappropriate in his line of business. Taking a careful look at how his brother's hand was dancing across the pages, Sherlock could make out just a little bit of what was written before he was noticed. With a snap, Mycroft quickly shut his book and slipped it into his interior jacket pocket. The pwn was stored on the putside, in a protected pocket as was proper.

"London Bridge has fallen," Sherlock said as he sat up and met his brothers gaze. "Does that meam what I think it means?"

There was no reply to his comment. Mycroft simply shifted his gaze to stare at the blank wall across from him. That deviation gave away all Sherlock needed to know. He was right, something very terrible had occurred. Looking around the spartan hospital room he quickly noticed that there was no TV, no radio, no forms of outside communication. He had a chest of drawers, a door that seemed to lead off to restroom facilities and a door with a small window that led inti a hallway. His bed did not have a call button nor where there windows to look out of. All highly unusual, and proof that he was not in a normal hospital room. In fact, if he were to hazard a guess, Sherlock would say that this room seemed to be underground. There were very few reasons he would be underground and none of them were good.

"You were deemed a high-profile target and necessary to the government," Mycroft said as he broke Sherlock out of his musings. " I take it you know where we are?"

"Of course I do," came the quick reply. "We are in an underground bunker for government agents and people deemed to be of high importance. The only reason we would be here as if there had been an attack of massive porportions."

"Unfortunately, you are correct as always," John said sleepily. "We have been here 5 days so far, and all communications with surface has been cut off. Sherlock, London was attacked and we are some of the few left."

Surprised, Sherlock looked to his brother for confirmation. The nod and the following reply chilled the detective to his bones.

"It was not just London," Mycroft said as he gathered his coat. "All of the major countries in Europe have been attacked. Germany, Paris, Scotland. They had gone as far as to destroy Great Britain with a very targeted strike on Big Ben and Parliment. Currently we are in Greenland, just so you habe a general idea of the location."

Sherlock quickly realized the implications of what his brother had just said. There was no home to go to, 221B was most likely gone. Quickly drawing up the memory of what the man had said in the car, Sherlock finally saw the whole picture. Terrorists had pulled off one of the biggest attacks in history. And If London and a good majority of Europe was gone, the other continents were sure to follow. That meant only one thing.

"A new world war," Sherlock said in a shocked tone.

There was a few moments pause, and then the detective leapt up from the bed he had been laying in. The surprise John, as he had been pretty sure that his friend would have been too weak to do such an action. It seemed to surprise Mycroft as well, as he did not immediately move to prevent the action.

"Where are my clothes," Sherlock muttered as he began to pull open drawers. "I need my clothes, I need to get going."

"Sherlock, take it easy," John said as he moved to restrain his friend. "You need to get back into bed and rest, not be tearing all over the place like a devil."

There was a momentary scuffle, and for the first time in recent memory John Watson found himself staring up at his friend as Sherlock began to quickly get dressed. Unable to move, or breathe properly, John took a few gasping breaths as he lay upon the tile floor with the wind knocked out of him. From his vantage point, he could seehis friend tearing at the buttons on a shirt, and Mycroft fiddling with something in his pocket. It took only a few moments and Watsin could breathe again. However, he was now angry. Sherlock had no reason to hit him like he had, he was simply trying to protect the stubborn man! Raising to his feet quietly John took two steps behind the dressed detective and quickly applied a sleeper hold.

"Sherlock calm down," John growled into his friends ear. "Calm down or I will make you!"

Apparently the scuffle had made some sort of commotion. With a loud bang of the door slamming against the wall, three large men and security outfits quickly separated the two. John found himself pinned against the wall by one man while Sherlock was pinned to the floor, one of the larger men sitting on him while the other pinned his arms.

"Mycroft sir, we heard the commotion," the security personell sitting on Sherlock said calmly. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," Mycroft replied as he twitched his hand. Quickly, all three men released their captives and stood at attention. "However, now that the detective is awake we need an escort to the Discussion Room."

Silently, two men quickly picked up Sherlock and set him back on his feet. The other grab to John by the arm and let him over to his friend two steps away. It was odd, as the leading was not very necessary but it seemed to be in a very ingrained fashion to John. Without another word, the three men walked out of the room as Mycroft motioned for Sherlock and John to follow.

"I hope you two are ready," Mycroft whispered as the security team led the three through a seemingly labrynth like tunnel. "It has been decided that the two of you are going to be the assault force. You two are going to find the head of the organization, where he is located, and silence anything in between."

"I was born ready," Sherlock said in a cocky manner as they reached a beautifully engraved wooden door. With a creak, the door was opened and Mycroft quickly knealt. "My King," Sherlock said as he gave a respectable bow to his new monarch, the former Prince of England . "When do we depart?"


End file.
